Elder Tree story on film

 

When the Elder Tree Laughs

- of ancient faeries and troublesome witches

We woke with a rustling rhythm
A stamped percussion,
The rattling beat of twigs on bark.
We woke, 
Dancing!

Creswell Crags on the eastern edge of Derbyshire holds some of the most significant prehistoric cave dwellings in the UK. Here Neanderthals lived. Here early Homo sapiens carved and drew and etched into bone. Here mammoths walked and reindeer ran and wolves waited.

And here sometime a few centuries later, people carved witch marks into walls and slabs and hoped they could keep some wickedness away. Or maybe not. The witch marks are there: the biggest collection of such marks in the country. Usually found in ones and twos in homes, on lintels and thresholds, a symbol to keep the house safe. Here there are hundreds, piled on top of each other: line and cross and curve, the Virgin Mary invoked through letters, a prayer against danger

A line beside a line beside a line

Strike the line and strike and strike.

Each line a blow, a beat, a bolt,

This line is an arrow, a knife to cut a witch’s flesh.

With the witch marks as a theme and with the dwindled numbers of visitors this year, the Crags organised a weekend of digital events: the Creswell Crags Midwinter Festival of Folklore. 

This piece of mine featured in that Festival but now is available on the Creeping Toad youtube pages. The Festival and its features were free to watch but there is a JustGiving page and if you enjoy our little poem you might like to  a) go to the Crags vimeo page and see which festival films are still on there and b) after enjoying all of that richness, go to the JustGiving page and, well, just give!

"When the Elder Tree Laughs" weaves the spirits of landscapes together with scared people carving witchmarks and the wild witches who don’t really care about marks, the power of prayer or people invoking Mary. Read by myself and a cast of nine other people, we invite you to make a hot drink, find a biscuit or a mince pie or three and settle down for a 20 minute tea break and an adventure into mystery and the bitter taste of ancient anger 

With many thanks:

• to Creswell Crags for the inspiration
• To the cast for their voices and enthusiasm: Susan Cross, Jo Crow, Woody Fox, Lou Hart, Annie Lord, Sarah Males, Peter Phillipson, Philippa Tipper, Gillian Wright
• to Ruth Evans for permission to use her beautiful painting in the film!

Old voices from an earlier day

 

Elder, birch and willow

old voices from an earlier day

https://www.creswell-crags.org.uk/2020/12/17/creswell-crags-online-midwinter-festival-of-folklore-programme-now-live/

We woke with a rustling rhythm

A stamped percussion,

The rattling beat of twigs on bark.

We woke, 

Dancing*

Creswell Crags on the eastern edge of Derbyshire holds some of the most significant prehistoric cave dwellings in the UK. Here, Neanderthals lived. Here, early Homo sapiens carved and drew and etched into bone. Here, mammoths walked and reindeer ran and wolves waited.

And here, sometime a few tens of centuries later, people carved witch marks into walls and slabs and hoped they could keep some wickedness away. Or maybe not. The witch marks are there: the biggest collection of such marks in the country. Usually found in ones and twos in homes, on lintels and thresholds, a symbol to keep the house safe. Here there are hundreds, piled on top of each other: line and cross and curve, the Virgin Mary invoked through letters, a prayer against danger

A line beside a line beside a line

Strike the line and strike and strike.

Each line a blow, a beat, a bolt,

This line is an arrow, a knife to cut a witch’s flesh.

With the witch marks as a theme and with the dwindled numbers of visitors this year, the Crags have organised a weekend of digital events: the Creswell Crags Midwinter Festival of Folklore

Starting tomorrow (18^th December) through to the Solstice, Monday 21^st,  there is a programme of storyteller and musicians. There will be learned talks and discussions about gaming. The Whitby Krampus Run are (I hope) unleashing a Krampus or two upon our screens. And if you don’t know what or who Krampus is, drop in and discover!

Festival programme to download

I am “on” twice: Friday 18^th, 3pm and Saturday 19^th 11am. From me there is a story-poem weaving the spirits of landscapes together with scared people carving witchmarks and the wild witches who don’t really care about marks and Mary. Read by myself and a cast of eight other people, we invite you to make a hot drink, find a biscuit or a mince pie or three and settle down for a 20 minute tea break and an adventure into mystery and the bitter taste of ancient anger 

The events are free but as this is a fund-raiser for the caves there is a Just Giving page so why not give the cost of an evening ticket somewhere for a whole weekend of entertainment!

Details:

to join the festival:

https://www.creswell-crags.org.uk/2020/12/17/creswell-crags-online-midwinter-festival-of-folklore-programme-now-live/

Just giving page: https://www.justgiving.com/campaign/CreswellCragsFolkloreFestival2020

Enjoy!

Photos: 

• birch leaves: Gordon MacLellan
• witch marks c Paul Bahn (from Creswell main website)
• pool and morning mist: Adam Nardell

* Poem pieces are from my story poem "When the Elder Tree Laughs" which is my contribution to the festival....

Dreams of lost toads

 Lost Toads

Remembrance Day for Lost Species, 2020

It was cold. I sat and thought about the toads I know and love, of toads that have gone: the beautiful Golden Toad (Incilius periglenes, last seen 1989) of central America, of frogs so imperilled there may be only 1 or 2 individuals left (Hula painted Frog, Discoglossus nigriventer), of Mountain Chickens, (Leptodactylus fallax) wonderful, delightful and with their diminishing populations now being ravaged by chytrid fungus infections*

It was cold. I thought about what I already do, what could I do more of? What projects I could support, where a pair of wellies, a bucket and willing hands and might help

It was cold. I found my own stillness and thought of hibernation, of damp, patient lovelinesses folded into a deep, dreaming (?), sleep. Do toads dream? Who knows? But they have an ancient lineage to dream about

This was my Remembrance Day for Lost Species evening. A group of us had been planning a Creative Day to mark the occasion: gathering in the hills here to talk and draw and paint and plan. But no. Instead, I was here, human alone but in good amphibian company and it was cold. So I gathered so amphibians from the shelves, spread out some sheets of black paper, grabbed a handful of oil pastels, pens and scraps of paper and started to doodle

A HEART FULL OF TOADS

Sleeping.

Hiding the jewels of our eyes,

In the gravelled mud of our skins.

Sleeping,

A long slow slumber in the welcoming dark.

Sleeping, 

Still as stone, still as death,

Still as the shadows we are wrapped in.

Sleeping,

To dream of passion and ponds and

Spawn in a Toad Queen’s necklace in the weed.

And you, traveller in a toad’s dream,

What do you bring to the lost people

Of the hills?

I will rest beside you,

I will stand between you and harm,

I will sing your wonders to an unheeding world.

And come the spring when you wake,

And this world contrives to trap you,

Contain you, confine you, restrain you,

Hinder you, thwart you,

Block the pull of the home pond

With walls, with channels, with concrete and hostility

I will be and

I will rally,

The hands that lift,

The boots that wade,

The buckets that carry,

The hearts that smile,

And help you to the bliss,

Of the cold, dark water,

And the family that thrills,

Raising wonder to the skies.

For Toad is always there,

Inside me, beside me.

Connection,

Comfort, Inspiration,

Companion.

Cousin.

A bit of background

Remembrance Day for Lost Species, November 30th, is a chance each year to explore the stories of extinct and critically endangered species, cultures, lifeways, and ecological communities. 

Whilst emphasising that these losses are rooted in violent and discriminatory governing practices, the day provides an opportunity for participants to make or renew commitments to all who remain, and to develop creative and practical solutions. 

Remembrance Day for Lost Species honours diverse experiences and practices associated with enduring and witnessing the loss of cultural and biological diversity. 

(Information from RDLS website)

Useful links

* Robin Moore: In Search of Lost Frogs, Bloomsbury, 2014 – a book for inspiration and sorrow

Action: visit FROGLIFE  for amphibian and reptile related conservation in UK

Immediate action: why not buy a friend or treat yourself to a copy of the Froglife Toad print (limited edition so get in quick!)

Toads On roads: add you feet, wellies, buckets and best wishes to the toads on Roads scheme

For amphibians there is also

Save the Frog Day

But RDLS reaches out without an amphibian emphasis (that is my personal stuff) so visi them for ideas and maybe look at  the Loving Earth Project and CelebrationEarth! for ideas (Loving) and people who will celebrate emotional and spiritual responses to nature as well as practical ones (CE!)

Images:

First three images: c G MacLellan

Magnificent footnote toad: C K Taylor